The Bell Doesn't Toll Thrice
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: 6927, one-sided L27, 6918, light R27. In the hotbed of violence named the Mafia, six lives intersect. When they collide with a rival family and the yakuza, the house of cards falls apart.
1. Part I

Disclaimer: The world of Katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters are not mine.

Summary: A boss who refuses to kill; a hitman who has no such scruples; a child who takes up the gun; a loner who desires freedom; a butterfly who dreams of the life of another; and a man who believes in nothing. In the hotbed of violence named the Mafia, their lives intersect. When they collide with a rival family and the yakuza, the house of cards falls apart.

Pairings & Characters: Mukuro/Tsuna, one-sided Lambo/Tsuna, Mukuro/Hibari, vague Reborn/Tsuna, Chrome

**The Bell Doesn't Toll Thrice**

_Part I_

The terminal of the busiest airport in Japan was a glass-and-steel affair of modern nonchalance. As the hour hand slouched towards midnight, the crowd huddling around the arrival gate began to disperse. Grey languor hung in the air; loud chatter dwindled into mere whisper.

Some distance away from the crowd, Sawada Tsunayoshi, dressed in casual shirt and jeans, was arguing with someone over the phone. "Look, Reborn-" A frown was etched on his brow. "That's not what I meant." The frown deepened. "I'll deal with it in the morning, okay?" Large amber eyes narrowed. "Stop saying that." A face too boyish to be that of a Mafia boss contorted. "I know."

Standing two steps away from Tsuna was Gokudera Hayato, who alternated between scanning the area for potential threat and casting worried glances at the boss of the Vongola family. Although they were of the same age, compared to the youthful-looking decimo, Gokudera possessed an air of polished maturity at times laced with a hardness of one fully immersed in a life of crime.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Tsuna hung up and slipped the cell phone into the pocket of his jacket, the knot on his forehead remained like a battle scar. While Gokudera understood the virtue of silence, he could not help but ask anyway, "What is it, Tenth?"

"Just the usual." Tsuna waved a hand in dismissal, hoping to dissuade his friend from further distress. "You know how Reborn is sometimes. Don't worry about it."

"I understand, Tenth," Gokudera duly replied. Nonetheless, the thorn in his heart could not be so easily soothed. The ongoing dispute between the boss and the advisor was a matter he had no right to interfere, yet he wished his boss would rely on him all the same. "If there is anything I can do, please let me know."

A wry, weary smile crept onto Tsuna's lips; warm golden eyes softened amidst the glaring overhead light. "I'll keep that in mind, Gokudera-kun. Thanks for putting up with me."

Absinthe green eyes glowed as if the Green Fairy herself had come by for a visit. "Tenth, you don't have to thank me. I'm simply doing what I need to do." As he recalled the reason they were in the airport in the first place, his expression darkened. "I understand you want to treat all your guardians equally, but I cannot trust that woman. Or that man."

Tsuna did not argue with his right-hand man, for he understood all too well the reason behind Gokudera's trepidation. The man hiding behind Chrome Dokuro like a shadow was akin to a slow poison that could kill without warning.

A chill ran down his spine. The air in the terminal became a tint murkier, the light a shade dimmer. Knowing whom he would behold even before confirming the fact with his own eyes, Tsuna turned towards the arrival gate. A familiar silhouette carrying a black suitcase and a handbag fluttered into his line of sight. A willow-like figure enveloped in a form-fitting black suit and skirt, a delicate visage adorned with a black eye patch over the right eye, flowing black hair trailed past thin shoulders - the dichotomy of sylph-like frailty and clandestine danger was manifested in Chrome Dokuro like a flower blooming out of season.

Smiling warmly at his Mist Guardian, Tsuna approached Chrome with Gokudera by his side. "Welcome home, Chrome. How's your flight?" Ordinarily he would have arranged a private jet for his guardian, yet Chrome had declined the offer. While he had an inkling as to the reason for the refusal, he chose not to voice his opinion.

"It was fine, Boss," Chrome uttered softly, her voice as intangible as the element she represented. One liquid violet eye flickered towards Gokudera, who nodded rigidly in greeting. Chrome returned the gesture without a word.

"We will drive you home," Tsuna said kindly while catching Gokudera's gaze. His friend let out a sigh before smiling indulgently at him. Encouraged, he turned to Chrome. "If it's okay with you, of course."

"Thanks, Boss." The trickle of emotion in her voice induced a smile on Tsuna's face.

Several minutes later, Gokudera's sedan cruised along the highway as if in flight, roaming past glittering high-rises and orange streetlight. Sitting at the back with Chrome by his side, Tsuna was at a loss for words. Even after ten years, he had yet to figure out a way to handle his quiet comrade, a plight further complicated by his relation with the other half of the Mist Guardian.

As the car gradually approached Shinjuku, Chrome shattered the silence at last. "Mukuro-sama asked me to deliver a gift to you." With that, she took out a box from her bag and presented it to Tsuna.

The velvet white box resembled a jewellery case for a necklace, with a blue ribbon tied neatly around it. His curiosity piqued, Tsuna took the box, untied the ribbon, and opened it. When he saw what was inside, he drew a sharp intake of breath. A semi-automatic pistol laid asleep in royal blue felt, its polished surface gleamed like black onyx. Raising his head, he found Chrome lowering her eye.

"Mukuro-sama said you will understand." Casting her attention away from Tsuna, Chrome turned to Gokudera, who gritted his teeth in agitation. "I shall get off here."

The car glided smoothly to a stop along a side street, its engine purring in wait. And then, a sharp click echoed within the confines of the sedan; a gun was being cocked. His green eyes narrowed, Gokudera trained his gun squarely at Chrome's brow.

"What the hell are you and Mukuro planning to do?" Gokudera demanded.

Fear did not intrude into Chrome's disconcertingly placid demeanour. She looked blankly from the black muzzle staring down at her to the severe face of the Storm Guardian. Neither Tsuna nor Gokudera could tell what was running through her mind.

"Gokudera-kun, put away the gun." Tsuna intervened. Calm though his tone was, there was an edge in his voice that demanded obedience. Reluctantly Gokudera put his gun back into the holster, though he kept a scrutinizing eye on Chrome.

Tsuna gave him a warning look before turning to the more troubling issue. "What else did Mukuro say?"

"That was all he said." There was a pause. "Sorry." With that Chrome got out of the car and circled to the back. Twisting the corner of his mouth in indignation, Gokudera nonetheless opened the trunk for her.

At length, a poisonous chill coursed through Tsuna's veins. He sensed the world around him becoming warped and off-centre, as though he had lost his footing. Putting the box aside, he got out of the car despite Gokudera's well-meaning warning. The midnight air of the metropolis was corrupted by a bewitching fragrance of musk intercoursing with leather, the signature scent of a certain capricious man.

"Mukuro," Tsuna called out to the Mist Guardian, who inclined her head to regard him. "I know what you are trying to say. Thanks for telling me."

The body belonging to Chrome Dokuro chuckled, yet the soul within the slender figure was no longer that of the quiet young woman. "I am not trying to help you." The suave tone was lined with a patronizing note. "There is something I would like to see, that's all."

Orange eyes deepened into orbs that had captured in their depths the rueful sunset. "It's not going to stop, is it?"

Rokudo Mukuro, the thief who had borrowed Chrome's body, smiled wryly as always. Capturing Tsuna's hand in his, he brushed his lips against the decimo's ring, his gaze never once departed from that of the _capo di famiglia. _Although Mukuro's lips did not touch his skin, Tsuna winced at the sting on his finger. "If you ever like to be comforted, you can come to me." _[1]_

There was a time when Tsuna would blush furiously at the offer, yet for too long he had played this game with Mukuro that he was immune to the sugar-coated drug that was his words. "I won't become yours, Mukuro."

The smile on the Mist Guardian's face sharpened like a scythe. "You seem to be under a misconception. Our relationship is based solely on benefits. I am using you as much as you are using me. Nothing more, nothing less." He let go of Tsuna's hand and grabbed the suitcase. "Good night, Vongola." With that the Mist Guardian pulled the suitcase along and soon disappeared into the crowd.

Returning to the car once more, Tsuna leant into the embrace of the velvet car seat and closed his eyes. Vaguely he was aware that Gokudera had pulled the car into traffic. "Gokudera-kun, can you check to see if there had been any movements from our rival families lately?"

"I understand, Tenth." Tsuna found solace in his right-hand man's reassuring voice, one of the few constant in this ever-changing world. "Please leave everything to me."

Slowly cracking his eyes open, Tsuna contemplated Mukuro's gift darkly before taking it out and weighing it in his hand. No matter how many times he handled a gun, he could feel its weight settling at the pit of his stomach, dragging him under - it was the weight of a human life.

* * *

A brisk gunshot sound disrupted the silence in the abandoned warehouse, then another.

Standing over the corpse of the man he had just killed, Lambo nudged the man over with his foot. The man was staring up at him, his face frozen in a permanent state of disbelief, anger, and fear. Perhaps he could not believe he would be killed; perhaps he was angry that the deities did not intervene; perhaps he was afraid to die. Lambo did not know the answer, but he liked to imagine what went through the man's mind before his death.

The wisp of smoke coming out of Lambo's beloved Beretta had already vanished into the night, with it so was the target's life. The choking scent of blood and gunpowder permeated the air; Lambo found it at once comforting and revolting.

After dropping the gun into the pocket of his overcoat, Lambo walked out of the warehouse without a backward glance. Discreetly keeping an eye for potential pursuer, he soon escaped the deserted zone and blended into the late-night crowd. When he was certain he was not followed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialled a number.

As soon as the call went through, he said, "It's done."

"Then stop wasting my time and get back here," came Reborn's impatient voice before the call was rudely cut off. Nothing more but silence greeted Lambo's ear.

Annoyed at the treatment he had received, Lambo stuffed the phone into his pocket with more force than he needed to. "What's his problem?" he grumbled beneath his breath as he stalked among the crowd. "Is he having a midlife crisis? Stupid Reborn."

With a constant look of ennui, Lambo gave the impression of one who was stricken with apathy, yet nothing was further from the truth. Tall for his age, he looked older than his fifteen years of life suggested; nevertheless, his lazy, slouching posture retained a certain adolescent awkwardness as though he was not comfortable with his lanky body.

Cheap neon signs blinked flirtatiously at him. A woman clad in a revealing Chinese dress tried to latch onto him, but he neatly stepped away. Shinjuku - as vibrant as it is seedy, a mirror contrast to the sleepy town of Namimori where he grew up.

The adrenalin of the kill had worn off; his body shivered from the chill. "Ah, I want a glass of hot milk," he said to himself, which garnered unwanted attention from passers-by. "Maybe I should go bother Vongola. He should be at the base."

His mood instantly lifted, he strolled onto the main street and headed for the train station. As he waited for the traffic light to turn, he caught a glimpse of a dainty figure in the crowd. Clad in a crisp black suit and dragging a suitcase behind her, the girl looked very much out of place. When her long hair was blown back by a sudden breeze, Lambo immediately recognized her.

Chrome Dokuro, a Vongola guardian just like himself, and something of a gentle if emotionally distant older sister. In his younger years, Chrome had been kind to him, and he had not forgotten about that. Although she remained detached from the rest of the Vongola family, he was fond of her.

Quickly crossing the road, he ran up to her with a smile on his face. "Chrome!"

The young woman turned around; liquid violet pupil flickered in recognition. "Lambo." Her voice was transparent like glass.

"You just got back?" Chrome nodded. "You should grab a cab. That way, you wouldn't have to drag your suitcase around."

"The boss gave me a ride." As soon as those words left her lips, Lambo's expression became a disconcerting blank.

"Oh, did he?" he mumbled as though talking to himself. Mentally shaking himself out of his brooding, he offered. "I'll walk you home." Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed the handle of the suitcase and marched on ahead. After letting out a breath, Chrome caught up with him.

As they prowled the urban playground like a pair of shadows, Lambo belatedly realized he should have gone home immediately after a mission. Feeling the weight of the gun bouncing against his side, he stuffed his hand in the pocket and inquired Chrome about her trip.

He had not been to Italy in years. Although Italy was his birthplace, Namimori was his true home. Raised as a mafioso since infancy though he had been, lately he began to wonder about the logic of training a five-year-old to be a hitman. Nonetheless, he had no regret, for he was at least of some use to the family - and to _him_.

When Lambo fell silent, Chrome sent him a sidelong glance; the faintest of a frown was etched on her brow. Several heartbeats later, he stared at the billboard for a glossy perfume advertisement and mused aloud, "I killed a man today. He's another assassin out to get Vongola." He paused. "It's sad, isn't it?"

For an unsettling moment, Chrome's eye was tinted a shade of royal blue; the usually placid expression on her face was marred by a twist of irony on her lips. Yet, Lambo did not notice the change. Taking her silence as consolation, Lambo spoke no more.

* * *

The elevator sounded a bright chime when it reached the sixth floor. The door slid open smoothly, and Chrome, raising her head, strolled out of the metallic cage and wheeled the suitcase behind her. Half a minute later, she was standing before her apartment, her hand hovering over the keypad before withdrawing. Distantly she heard Mukuro chuckling in her head; it appeared he had noticed something was amiss as well.

"Chrome, please sleep for awhile." Mukuro's mellow voice seeped into her mind.

"Yes, Mukuro-sama." Closing her eyes, she felt her consciousness swiftly ebbing away. When phantom fingers grazed her cheek, she found herself sinking into the sea of the unconscious.

After unlocking the door, the Mist Guardian went inside and surveyed the surroundings. A sliver of light that should not have existed trickled into the hallway from the direction of the living room. Lips curled into a curious smile, he put aside the luggage and went into the living room.

The glass lamp by the black upholstered sofa was lit, and sitting on the sofa was a man nursing a glass of whiskey. Short black hair fell upon a refined visage in graceful disarray, the man exuded the poise of a natural born dictator. As soon as those cool dark eyes bespoke of boredom shot upward to regard Mukuro, the very air in the room crackled with murderous tension.

Unfazed, Mukuro applauded and let his voice fill the silence. "I heard you have dismantled one of the largest yakuza syndicates in the Tokyo area in less than three months. Congratulations. You have made an enemy out of one group and an ally out of another."

Hibari Kyouya's gaze sharpened like a scalpel. Reflected within his frozen eyes was not the slender young woman in a dark suit, but a tall, attractive man clad in cashmere and dark pants. Long hair of the darkest of nights, glittering silver ear cuff, heterochromic eyes - Rokudo Mukuro greeted him with a signature half-smile that was not entirely a smile.

"They interfered with my business." Hibari put down the glass. "It's been half a year, hasn't it?" When Mukuro did not immediately respond, Hibari narrowed his eyes. "You are playing your game with Sawada Tsunayoshi again?"

There was a flash in those unnervingly tranquil eyes of Mukuro's. "I wonder how far he can fly before he realizes the sky is his prison." The corner of his lips twisted. "Just like you."

Like a leopard Hibari sprang for the other man, his prized tonfa already in his hands. Casually Mukuro took several steps back, evading the attack. Nevertheless, he did not resist when he was thrust against the wall, the deadly weapon pressed against his throat. His smile never once wavered, the Mist Guardian said in half-jest, "Ah, you are not jealous, are you?"

Those inorganic eyes of Hibari's glittered with resentment; the downward twist of his lips spoke volume of his displeasure. "Why should I be?"

No one dared to toy with the formidable Cloud Guardian; nevertheless, Rokudo Mukuro was the exception to the rule. Chuckling in amusement, the despicable man took out a silver cross from his pocket. "I have a present for you." As though he did not feel the threatening pressure on his throat, he looped the thin chain around Hibari's neck. "Do whatever you want with it."

Momentarily stunned, Hibari loosened his hold and stared at the other man, who seemed more intent on the necklace than on him. Once the clasp was in place, Mukuro leant forward and whispered into his ear, "Say, do you miss me?"

A whiff of leather blending with musk crept into Hibari's nostrils. So vivid was the scent he could nearly tasted it at the tip of his tongue, even though he knew it was no more than an illusion woven by this impalpable man.

Hibari closed his eyes for a tantalizing beat before opening them once more. "What nonsense. I'm just anxious about biting you to death."

Dancing in opposition on the battlefield until he grew tired of it was Hibari's only demand to Mukuro. And for the past ten years, Mukuro had indulged him, even going so far as to give him the key card and the codes to his apartment. Nevertheless, Hibari began to suspect the day when the music stops playing might never arrive.

* * *

In another dimly lit living room, a lone hitman was sipping espresso by the window, beyond which was the overgrown forest at the outskirt of Namimori beneath a starless sky. In contrast to the Mist Guardian's modern home, this room was furnished in the warm, cosy style of Tuscany with a touch of contemporary comfort. It was not the kind of place one would expect to find a legendary hitman.

His lean body enveloped in a black suit, the man exuded a menacing aura liken to the gun he wielded. Those impregnable black eyes of his could rip a man's spirit apart, yet their depths could draw one in until one would rather drown in the well of darkness and never resurface again. Masculine sensuality drenched this man who was devastating in more ways than one.

When Tsuna stepped into the room, he found his advisor leaning against the window frame as though there was nothing more interesting in this world than the whispers of the shadowy forest.

"You are still awake," Tsuna said while contemplating his advisor's profile; Reborn did not turn to regard him. His brows knitted into a knot, the decimo thought about the argument earlier - and the countless arguments preceding it. "You won't be able to sleep if you drink too much espresso."

"It's just one of those nights," Reborn remarked and finished the drink. Like the caffeine-laden poison he was addicted to, his voice was rich with a hint of barely concealed passion. "You are still upset."

A sense of defiance against his former mentor reared its ugly head. "Why should I be? I know you have the family's best interest in mind. I know you want me to be a good boss for the family. It's all for the family."

Once upon a time, the word _family _invoked such pleasant feeling. Now, however, it became a curse that bound him to the murky sea named the Mafia, and to this man who was the very embodiment of darkness.

"It's all right if you are whining to me. Just don't let your subordinates see you like this."

"I know that!" Tsuna snapped at Reborn with more spite than he intended. "I don't want them to worry about me either." Heaving a sigh, he dejectedly threw himself onto the sofa. "Sorry. I act like a spoiled brat again."

"You _are_ a spoiled brat." And yet, as his eyes fell upon his former student, Reborn's expression softened to a barely perceptible degree. "At least, it's an improvement that you know your own shortcoming."

"You are so demanding." Tsuna smiled faintly at his mentor, whose lips curled into a wry curve. "Will I ever hear a compliment from you in my lifetime?"

"Now you are asking too much." In several steps Reborn approached the sofa. After putting down the cup, he took a chocolate truffle from a golden box on the table. "Open your mouth."

Conceding to the hitman's command, Tsuna did as he was told, and Reborn popped the chocolate into his mouth. "With compliments from Dino."

The lush sweetness melting in his mouth reminded Tsuna of a certain man who adored chocolates with a bemusing fervour. That man was as much a paradox as Reborn, a peculiar blend of bitterness and sweetness seasoned with a dash of exotic spice. His pleasant mood evaporated at the reminder, Tsuna absently traced a thumb over the contour of the box in the pocket of his coat.

"According to Mukuro, one of our rivals is on the move. They are obviously taking advantage of the fact that we are still recovering from our conflict with the Gesso family."

For some moments, Reborn was silent. Only when Tsuna looked questioningly at him did he finally open his mouth. "Get some rest. We'll talk about this in the morning."

While Reborn was a difficult man to read, Tsuna had ten years to hone his skill. What he had perceived from his advisor was not at all to his liking. "Reborn? What is it? Do you know anything about it?"

"I said we'll talk about it in the morning." Reborn reiterated, and Tsuna winced at the sudden harshness in his tone. "I'm going out." After grabbing his fedora hat from the sofa, Reborn walked out the room and passed by Lambo at the doorway.

"Wha!" Surprised by the hitman's sudden appearance, Lambo bumped his shoulder against the door frame. "Hey, Reborn-" As soon as Reborn cast him a glance, he nervously swallowed his words. Once Reborn was out of ear shot, Lambo mumbled, "What was that about?"

"Lambo, you shouldn't go out so late at night," Tsuna reprimanded, not taking into account that he acted the same way when he was an adolescent like Lambo.

"I was just-" Realizing his mistake, Lambo immediately held his tongue. Tsuna had no idea he was working as a hitman for the family; Reborn had forbidden him to reveal the truth. While he wanted very badly to tell Tsuna, he did not want to know what kind of punishment would be in store for him should he break the vow. "I was just taking a stroll around town. It's nice outside."

In truth, Tsuna did not believe him; then again, he assumed boys of that age had secrets of their own, therefore he pried no further. Instead, he held out the box of chocolates to Lambo. "It's from Dino-san. Have one."

Looking from the chocolates to the boyish visage of the decimo, Lambo heard himself say, "Are you going to feed me?"

"Of course not. You are not a kid anymore," Tsuna countered without a second thought, not noticing a flash of consternation on Lambo's face.

_Aren't you still treating me as a kid? _Lambo thought.

After a beat, Lambo took a piece of chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth. The chocolate dissolved smoothly on his tongue, yet the sweetness was tinged with a trickle of bitterness. His fondness for sweets was akin to a sickness, yet it seemed the one sweet thing he desired most of all would not be his.

"How is it?" The same kind smile from ten years ago appeared on Tsuna's face, and Lambo could only force himself to smile as well.

Swallowing the bitterness of his one-sided romance and facing the source of his incurable disease, Lambo said, "So sweet I could cry."

_

* * *

To be continued..._

[1] Capo di famiglia: Boss of the family or patriarch

A/N: Thank you very much for reading! This is the story I did for KHR Minibang 2010. I've always wanted to write a KHR fic with a more hard-boiled edge.


	2. Part II

Disclaimer: The world of Katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters are not mine.

**The Bell Doesn't Toll Thrice**

_Part II _

Morning arrived with leaden dark clouds and torrents of rain. The street was dyed a washed-out grey, at times tinted with a dash of colour in the form of umbrellas and raincoats.

In a convenience store situated at a convenient street corner, Chrome walked down the aisle with a basket in her hand. Clad in a short black dress and long black boots, she moved like a butterfly lost in the urban jungle. When she reached the snack section, she took a bar of malt chocolate from the shelf, checked the expiry date, and dropped it into the basket.

There was nothing in the refrigerator at her place; she cleaned it out months ago before hopping onto the plane. While there were rice and canned food in the cupboard, a search for something to quench one's thirst came up with nothing but coffee and a shelf full of liquor.

_Should I prepare breakfast for the Cloud Guardian? _She mused as she glided past a man in a navy blue suit. Weariness lingered on her slender frame like the faintest blend of musk and leather conjured by the man who had travelled the six realms of transmigration.

Whenever Mukuro woke inside her, Chrome saw glimpses of his reality and lost sight of hers. When he slept, she sleepwalked through her reality in a daze. It was like suffering from dissociative identity disorder - a different personality came forth while she slept. Nevertheless, some fragments of Mukuro had melted into her soul. She felt more distant than she had been as an adolescent; the brutal reality of the Mafia did not help either.

After grabbing a carton of milk from the refrigerator, she adjusted the weight of the basket and strolled past the magazine stall. When she came to the newspaper rack, she stopped and scanned the front page. There was neither any mention of a murder near the Shinjuku area last night, nor was there a word about the storm in the yakuza world stirred by the man currently in her apartment. Both the Mafia and the yakuza were professionals when it comes to keeping their affairs out of the media spotlight.

Although Mukuro did not inform her of Hibari's latest exploit, she found out about the details on her own. The Yoiyami-kai, based in Shinjuku, wanted to expand its business and chose Namimori as its first foothold. However, the decision had angered the shadow king of Namimori, who single-handedly annihilated the group. The last she heard was that what remained of the group would be absorbed by its rival, the greatest insult among insults. Whether or not Hibari would be further involved in the conflict was anyone's guess.

Letting out a breath, she finished her shopping and left the store; the energetic voice of the store clerk sent her on her way. Holding the clear plastic umbrella with one hand and balancing the shopping bag with the other, she stepped onto the soggy street. The rush hour had long since passed, and the crowd had thinned. Raindrops beat against her umbrella in earnest; overhead, a river of grey clouds flowed fluidly by.

A proxy though she may be to Mukuro, she did not understand him. His fixation on Hibari Kyouya, his ambiguous connection with the Vongola decimo, his ultimate goal - these were mere facts she had glimpsed upon without the benefit of Mukuro's perspective. He was good at playing the role of a villain, and no one, not even Chrome, knew what was truly running through his mind. She wanted to know, even if the truth turned out to be a double-edged sword.

The sky darkened as though dusk had fallen.

Several steps away, two men were trailing after her. Even though they wore suits, their rough demeanour marked them as individuals living on the other side of the law. Fully aware she was being followed, Chrome continued on as if nothing was wrong.

_The Uccello Rapace? No... [1]_

"They are from the Yoiyami-kai." Mukuro's melodic voice echoed in her head, amusement flirting just beyond the periphery of her reality. "Their grudge against Hibari Kyouya must have made them desperate. What are you going to do?"

Chrome did not answer; instead she darted into a nearby alley. Her pursuers, surmising she was making a run for it, chased after her. Yet, when they stormed into the alley, there was no sign of the frail-looking woman but for a black butterfly fluttering about. Realizing they had lost sight of their target, the men rushed down the alley and were soon lost in the illusory maze, not once pausing to question why a butterfly would appear in the middle of the busy metropolis.

Several minutes later, Chrome rejoined her fellow passers-by on the main street, her pace unhurried and her eye downcast.

However improbable it might be, those men knew she was Hibari Kyouya's associate. Hibari clashed with the Yoiyami-kai while she was away. Even if he was followed last night, it was nearly impossible for his stalker to find out which apartment he went into. Either someone had been investigating him for some time, or someone within the Mafia had sold the information to an outsider, or...

Apprehension welled up in Chrome as her legs carried her towards the crossing, where a small crowd waited for the light to turn. "Mukuro-sama? Is this a test?" And yet, only silence greeted her as the traffic light flashed a warning yellow before glowing blood red.

* * *

The open concept kitchen looked as if it was lifted from the pages of a glossy interior design magazine. Much like the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was a slick, streamlined affair in black and white, accented with a dash of maroon. The stainless steel coffee maker sitting quietly in the corner completed the contemporary look.

The aroma of coffee floated listlessly in the air. And moving about with a familiarity bespoke of frequent visits, Hibari took a mug from the cupboard and helped himself to some coffee. Although he preferred tea, coffee would have to do for now. After swallowing a mouthful of the bitter liquid, he sat on the stool by the breakfast counter and took out his cell phone. There was a message for him from his right-hand man. Raising an eyebrow in bemusement, he called his subordinate.

"Good morning, Kyou-san." Kusakabe Tetsuya's deep voice came through from the earpiece. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but there are two important matters I must inform you about."

Stifling a yawn, the leader of the Disciplinary Foundation stretched his back like a cat. "What is it?"

"Shiina Takahiro-san of the Shinonome-gumi would like to meet with you."

Hibari searched through his memory for the name while gulping down more coffee. When he found what he was looking for, he narrowed his eyes. "That's the yakuza group based in Shibuya."

"That is so. Shibuya is their territory, but they have been aiming for Shinjuku - the Yoiyami-kai's territory - for years. Rumour has it that several months ago they had smuggled a massive collection of firearms into Japan. Some believed they had been planning to crush the Yoiyami-kai, but no one knew for certain. Needless to say, after the Yoiyami-kai's demise, they have taken the opportunity to extend their arm into Shinjuku." There was a pause. "Shiina Takahiro is an executive for the Shinonome-gumi. My guess is his group would like to establish a friendly relationship with the Foundation."

The Disciplinary Foundation was formed some time after Hibari graduated from high school. While in appearance it was an organization created to maintain the peace of Namimori, in truth it was Hibari's personal task force. However, a certain rumour had been circulating in the Japanese underworld lately about how the Shinonome-gumi hired the Foundation to destroy the Yoiyami-kai. As the head of the Foundation, Hibari was less than pleased with the rumour, which could only have been spread by that despicable man, one Rokudo Mukuro.

Annoyed, Hibari said coldly, his tone encrusted with frost, "Refuse them. I have no use for a pack of herbivores that crowd together and delude themselves into thinking they are strong. Make sure they get the message."

At the other end, Kusakabe felt a headache creeping up to him. Nevertheless, years of being Hibari's assistant had hardwired in him an unquestionable sense of loyalty. "Yes Kyou-san. Also, Gokudera-san called to inform us that there will be an emergency meeting at the Vongola base at ten o'clock this morning. It appears a certain group is targeting the Vongola family."

Hibari cast a glance at his watch; the platinum hands indicated the time was five to ten. Recalling his conversation with Mukuro last night, he let out a breath. "Take care of it and see what they want."

"Understood. Kyou-san, shall I come pick you up?" A note of worry lined Kusakabe's voice.

Absentmindedly Hibari fiddled with the necklace; the intricate gothic-styled carving on the cross was too ornate to his liking. "Be here in ten minutes." Without waiting for a reply, he snapped his phone shut.

After finishing his coffee, Hibari left the mug on the counter and wandered into the living room. Large picture windows extended across the entire length of the room, overlooking the metropolis beneath a mist of rain. The view was probably one of the reasons for the costly rent in this area; then again, he never bothered to ask how much rent the illusionist and the girl paid every month to afford such a spacious flat.

Stoically non-inquisitive - that was the term Rokudo Mukuro had used to describe the Cloud Guardian's personality. Hibari did not deny the claim; for his interest in people only extended so far as to whether they were strong or weak. Nevertheless, something had changed from the moment his path entwined with Mukuro's. A desire to rectify his defeat at Mukuro's hand gradually morphed into something akin to an obsession.

Not bothering to wait for the owner to return, Hibari left the apartment and went down to the lobby. The interlocking pattern of white and black granite gleamed like glass beneath his leather shoes. Ignoring the receptionist's bow, he approached the sliding door. Simultaneously, Chrome Dokuro waltzed into the lobby as though floating on water.

When she saw him, she paused for several seconds. At length, she took several steps forward and offered the umbrella to Hibari, who, after a beat, accepted it.

"Members of the Yoiyami-kai have been lurking on the street," Chrome remarked, to which Hibari responded with a nod of acknowledgement. Despite his ambivalent feeling towards Mukuro, he did not dislike the girl, for she only talked when necessary.

Walking past the young woman, Hibari went on his way, his figure cutting a sharp image against the grey-tinted street. Although he took note of Chrome's warning, concern for his own safety did not cross Hibari's mind. Be it now or ten years ago, he welcomed a fight whenever an opportunity presents itself before him.

Several minutes later, a black Mercedes pulled up along the sidewalk where Hibari was prowling the street. A bespectacled man in a navy blue suit got out from the driver seat. A quiet, scholarly man though he appeared to be, the blood-thirst in Hibari was instantly roused. Yet the man did not look at him; instead, he held out an umbrella and opened the door to the back seat.

A middle-aged man clad in a tailor-made dark suit got out and stood before Hibari. Those piercing eyes and aquiline features of his marked the older man as someone not to be trifled lightly with. Standing a step behind him, the driver held the umbrella over the older man's head. To the side, pedestrians gave a wide berth to the imposing Mercedes and the men who were clearly not law-abiding citizens.

"Hibari Kyouya-kun, is it?" the older man said, his voice rough and hoarse from nicotine and alcohol. "My name is Shiina Takahiro. This is my right-hand man and secretary, Kannazuki Yutaka." The secretary bowed his head. "Nice to meet you, Hibari-kun. I assume you know to which syndicate we belong?"

Hibari narrowed his eyes, within which brewed a storm waiting to be unleashed. "I'm not interested in dealing with the gokudo other than biting anyone who stands in my way to death." _[2]_

Shiina chuckled as though amused by his blunt remark; behind him, Kannazuki raised an eyebrow. "A fitting sentiment for someone as young as you are. Still, whether you like it or not, what you have done to the Yoiyami-kai has turned more than a few heads. Some people are beginning to consider you and your Foundation a threat."

Rather than drowning in apprehension, Hibari felt anticipation bubbling to the surface of his consciousness. "If they want to eliminate me, let them come and challenge me. However, I'm only interested in the affairs of Namimori. Whatever happens in your society is no concern of mine."

Heaving a sigh, Shiina made a gesture at Kannazuki, who nodded. "If you ever need assistance from the Ninkyo Dantai, the Shinonome-gumi will gladly offer a helping hand." _[2]_

As Shiina was about to return to the car, Hibari, wanting to test if this man would worth his while, whipped out his tonfa and aimed squarely at Shiina's skull. The plastic umbrella fell onto the pavement like a beheaded camellia. At the same time, Hibari found his tonfa being forcefully stopped within inches of striking on target. Raising his eyes, he saw Kannazuki's dispassionate face staring down at him; the man had caught his tonfa with his bare hand.

Hibari squinted at the secretary with renewed interest. Driven by the battle instinct he had honed to razor sharp perfection, he thrust his other tonfa upward at Kannazuki's chin. Without skipping a beat, Kannazuki dropped the umbrella and grabbed the other tonfa, holding it in an iron grip the Cloud Guardian could not shake out of. Slightly more impressed, Hibari let out a sound, half in admiration and half in mockery.

"Kannazuki."

The warning tone in his superior's voice propelled Kannazuki to release the tonfa. Taking the opportunity, Hibari took several steps back and appraised his opponent. Beneath those rimless glasses of Kannazuki's, he could detect not a hint of emotion. While Hibari wanted nothing more than to continue the fight, his opponent apparently had no such desire. Suddenly losing interest, Hibari stowed away his tonfa.

Unfazed by the bold attempt at his life, Shiina said with a note of wry amusement, "Hopefully I'll see you again soon, Hibari-kun."

Once Shiina got into the car, Kannazuki handed a business card to Hibari, who grudgingly accepted it. After bowing politely at the leader of the Disciplinary Foundation, Kannazuki returned to the car and drove away.

Slipping the card into his pocket, Hibari picked up the umbrella and resumed his walk. The undecided outcome of the battle left him feeling restless. In the back of his mind, he noted the name of the man he would one day settle the score with.

Less than a minute later, another car pulled up beside him; it was Kusakabe's. After folding up the umbrella, Hibari thrust it into the car and got in.

"Where would you like to go, Kyou-san?" Kusakabe asked while casting a glance at his boss from the rear view mirror.

"Home." Leaning into the comfortable leather seat, Hibari fished out the necklace and held the cross to the light. The glinting silver reminded him of the silly ear cuff Mukuro always wore, a little vanity from a man dripping with vanity.

Whatever Mukuro was planning to do would certainly stave off his boredom, and at that the illusionist never failed him. _All right, I shall play along with your game for a little while._

* * *

Tension loomed over the conference room like a pack of vultures. In the room where Tuscan furnishings meet high-tech gears, men were gathered, either in person or via video conferencing. Coffee was served, but the cups remained largely untouched.

At the head of the table was Tsuna, who cradled the cup between his palms while listening to Gokudera's report. Lambo, twirling a pen as if distracted, listened half-heartedly to the facts and figures he had no use for. Sitting some distance away, Reborn quietly observed the faces of these young men he had taught over the years.

Mounted to the wall was a large monitor, upon which was split into two windows, displaying the faces of the guardians who were currently away on business. Yamamoto Takeshi was in Spain; Sasagawa Ryohei was at the headquarters of the main family in Italy.

His grim face devoid of his typical easy smile, Yamamoto pressed his lips together for several heartbeats before opening his mouth. "Maybe I should head back immediately. For all we know, the enemies might have arrived in Japan already."

"Sawada, are you sure the source is reliable?" Ryohei asked, a question that elicited a scowl from Gokudera.

"Yes, I'm sure." Tsuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Whoever the group is, it's most likely one of the European families."

"Well, at least we can narrow down the list of suspects." Yamamoto gave Tsuna a sympathetic smile; the decimo smiled weakly in return.

"Tenth, I propose that one of the guardians should remain in Europe to investigate, and the other should return immediately to strengthen our defence."

"I agree." Ryohei crossed his arms. "We need more information so that we can be better prepared." He looked around the conference room as if searching for something. "Where's the mist girl?"

When Gokudera's expression darkened, Tsuna bit his lip in mild distress. Gokudera had informed Chrome of today's meeting, yet like Hibari, she had not shown up. While she was the best amongst the guardians in terms of intelligence gathering, Tsuna knew they could not rely on her this time.

After staring at the milky coffee in his cup for some time, Tsuna took a deep breath and said, "Yamamoto, I'm sorry I have to ask you this, but I need you to remain in Spain and seal the deal. Onii-san, can you alert the main family about a possible attack? Also, take Gokudera-kun's list and see if you can find anything more. Gokudera-kun, I would like you to act as his correspondent. Will that be all right?"

Although the question was directed at Gokudera, those amber eyes of Tsuna's were rested on Reborn, who caught his gaze. Something akin to understanding was passed between the former home tutor and his former student. And Lambo, watching Tsuna closely, felt the beast named _envy _taking a bite out of his sanity.

Once the older guardians accepted their respective mission, Tsuna uttered a final word. "Be careful, everyone."

After Yamamoto and Ryohei disconnected the line, Gokudera was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. Tsuna exchanged a befuddled look with Gokudera and called out, "Come in."

The door slid soundlessly open, and Kusakabe, after bowing his head at Tsuna, entered the room in long strides. "We have obtained information that might be of use to you," he said while taking out a silver cross from his pocket. "Hibari asked me to deliver this to you."

When Kusakabe pulled at the longer end of the cross, the cap came off to reveal what the cross truly was - a USB flash drive. Tsuna stared at the necklace for some time while Kusakabe plugged the flash drive into the terminal. Even without asking, he knew whom Hibari had received the memory stick from. Beyond the periphery of his consciousness, Reborn and Lambo scrutinized him in various degree of intensity, yet Tsuna, too preoccupied with his own thought, noticed neither of them.

Text and photographs blinked into existence on the screen, and at the top, a name stood out like a blank space in the infinite sea of 1s and 0s.

Uccello Rapace.

Upon seeing the name, Lambo looked sharply at Reborn, who did not return the gaze. Eyes narrowed, the seasoned hitman crossed his legs and drawled, "I see. An old enemy has returned to settle the score as soon as there is a crack in our armour."

"But why now?" Gokudera frowned. "It's been years since we were in direct conflict with the Uccello Rapace. Why would they suddenly want to initiate a war against us? Besides, how can we be sure that the Uccello Rapace is the one targeting us?"

"I can't say where Hibari got the information from, but he must have a reason to believe the data will be useful to you." Kusakabe spoke on behalf of his boss.

"Kusakabe is right. Hibari doesn't act without a reason," Reborn remarked. "Of course, we must first confirm the recent movement of the Uccello Rapace. And to answer your question, Gokudera, perhaps the Uccello Rapace has obtained the assistance of another group. Something must have tipped the balance to make them believe they have a chance to destroy Vongola."

"That is a possibility." Nevertheless, the troubled knot did not leave Gokudera's face.

Meanwhile, Tsuna scanned through some of the data and made his decision. "Gokudera-kun, send the information to Yamamoto, Onii-san, and the main family. Ask Onii-san and the main family to track down the Uccello Rapace's movement. I'll contact our allies in case the Uccello Rapace decides to attack them first." Then he turned to Kusakabe. "Kusakabe-san, can you thank Hibari-san for me? He probably won't take my call."

Inwardly agreeing with Tsuna's sentiment, Kusakabe stifled his smile and replied, "Yes, I shall tell him that."

Once the information had been uploaded to the Vongola server, Kusakabe retrieved the USB flash drive and took his leave. With that the meeting was officially concluded. Without a word, Reborn jerked his head at Lambo and walked out the door, leaving Lambo to scramble after him.

When he was at last alone with the boss, Gokudera said in earnest, "Tenth, please be careful. The Uccello Rapacecan be very vicious when it comes to hunting its prey."

"I'll be careful." Tsuna smiled, and Gokudera smiled with him. "Thanks, Gokudera-kun."

"If you need anything, please let me know." After gathering his papers together, Gokudera nodded once at Tsuna and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

As soon as no one was around, Tsuna leant heavily into the chair and reached back to the pieces of information Reborn had impressed upon him years ago. The Uccello Rapaceoriginated from the Zingarelli family, a bitter rival of Vongola since the generation of the terzo. It was widely believed that the terzo was assassinated by the Zingarelli family; in turn, Zingarelli claimed that Vongola had killed one of their bosses. While the truth sank into the sea of oblivion as time passes, the animosity between the two families remained.

Gradually, as the Vongola family climbed to the top of the Mafia pyramid, the Zingarelli family dwindled and became the Uccello Rapace. The feud from the past, combined with Vongola's success and Zingarelli's demise, must have triggered much hatred in the hearts of the survivors. Nevertheless, they did not possess the power to overtake Vongola; therefore, they acted as contracted assassins and bid their time. And now-

Vigorously Tsuna shook his head. In the face of these ancient disputes, he could only deal with them as they come. Reaching for the phone on the table, he grabbed the receiver and dialled the number that would connect him to the private line of the Cavallone decimo, one of the few men who could wholeheartedly understand his plight.

As he waited, he recalled his exchange with Reborn last night: Reborn had wanted to tell him something. When the call was connected, he reminded himself to find Reborn later, then momentarily put his musing aside.

"Hello, Dino-san? It's Tsuna. Yeah, thanks for the chocolates. They are delicious. Actually, there is something I want to talk to you about..."

* * *

Lurking around a corner some distance away from the conference room, Reborn leant against the wall and crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought. Reluctant though Lambo was to disturb the frightening hitman during one of his pensive mood, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hey, isn't that man I've killed last night from the Uccello Rapace?" Lambo stuffed his hand in his pocket and tried not to fidget. "You didn't tell Vongola about that, did you?"

The hitman gave the young guardian an aloof stare. "That's none of your business. You just have to do everything I say."

Although he knew he ought to shut his mouth, Lambo could not help himself. "Why didn't you tell him? Don't you think he should know? Anyway, it's pointless to hide anything now that Hibari has spilled everything. Just where did he get the information from?"

Unlike Lambo, Reborn knew who gave the information to Hibari. He neither gritted his teeth nor narrowed his eyes, yet he emitted such a menacing aura that Lambo took a step back in alarm. "We'll leave that aside for now. You will be Tsuna's bodyguard from now on, but don't tell him I ordered you to."

"I don't understand why you insist on hiding things from Vongola. What's the big deal anyway?"

"Hiding what from me?" A voice erupted from behind Lambo, who was startled out of his wit.

When the Thunder Guardian wheeled around, he found Tsuna standing there with a troubled frown on his brow. Stunned by the decimo's sudden appearance, he cast a quick glance at Reborn's direction, yet he could not detect even the faintest hint of surprise on Reborn's face. Cautious as Reborn always was, he would not have allowed his conversation to be overheard unless he wanted to.

"Vongola, well, it's like this..." Lambo stammered.

"I've known about the Uccello Rapace for some time, but I didn't report that to you," Reborn cut him off.

Dismay flashed across Tsuna's amber eyes as if within those golden depths was captured a wavering flame. Nonetheless, his voice was steady when he said, "Why?"

"There's no need for you to know." Before Tsuna could interrupt him, Reborn gave him a look that immediately shut him up. "The Uccello Rapace is the bird of prey. Many of its members kill for a living; they kill in order to survive. Of course, it would take a hitman to hunt down another."

"I know that? But you could at least tell me-"

"And then what? Are you going to try reasoning with them using your pacifist ideal? They are killers, plain and simple. They hold a grudge against us as much as we do against them. Since you aren't willing to kill, I shall deal with it in my own way."

Something akin to pain flew across that boyish visage of Tsuna's. "How much more are you hiding from me?"

"I've always been hiding things from you," Reborn remarked stoically, in all appearance unmoved by Tsuna's distress. "If you didn't know that already, now you do."

Left out of the little sphere belonging solely to the hitman and the boss, Lambo watched the exchange between Reborn and Tsuna with not a small amount of frustration. He was tempted to divulge everything to Tsuna just to let him know how far he would go for him, but in the end he held his tongue.

"So that's how it is, Reborn?" Tsuna was on the verge of saying something more, yet in the end, he changed his mind. Averting his gaze, he brushed past the Thunder Guardian and the advisor. "Whatever you say, I won't allow it."

Not once did Reborn make an attempt to stop the decimo. Although Lambo thought he saw those usually unfathomable eyes of Reborn's waver, it might have been a trick of the light and nothing more.

"Er, Reborn? What do we do now?" Lambo asked cautiously.

"The plan stays the same. You are going to follow Tsuna wherever he goes. When something happens, contact me immediately. If necessary, shoot to kill." With that Reborn stalked away in the opposite direction, as if deliberately distancing himself from his former student.

As soon as Reborn was out of sight, Lambo breathed a sigh of relief. "Everyone's just doing whatever he pleases." And then he twisted the corner of his lips. "Of course, that includes me."

* * *

In a fury Tsuna stormed into the office and threw himself onto the swivel leather chair. And yet, as he looked out at the swirling dark clouds beyond the window panes, it was not anger that was simmering in his heart. Raindrops beat against the glass and left their mark, forming narrow fractures on the window.

Growing tired of it all, he turned to the mahogany desk and stared at the fountain pen beside the keyboard. The pen was a gift from the Ninth, a reminder of the burden Tsuna must now shoulder. The crushing weight of obligation as a Mafia boss he could endure, and yet, he knew better than anyone else that the family was steadily falling apart.

Sullen eyes fell upon the elaborate brass handle on the drawer. The semi-automatic Mukuro gave him was locked away in his desk, out of sight but not out of mind. At length, Tsuna fished out the phone from his jacket and keyed in a short message.

The reply arrived mere seconds after he put down the phone; it was as though the recipient had known Tsuna would contact him. _"I shall prepare a bottle of wine in anticipation of your arrival this evening."_

Leaning back on the chair, he contemplated those words for several tantalizing seconds, letting the formation of characters sink in and soon be forgotten. And then, he pressed the button and deleted the message.

_

* * *

To be continued..._

[1] Uccello Rapace: Bird of prey

[2] Gokudo, Ninkyo Dantai: Alternate terms for yakuza

A/N: The relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is fun to write about. Hibari, on the other hand, gives me a bit of hard time. For me, he's even harder to figure out than Mukuro.


	3. Part III

Disclaimer: The world of Katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters are not mine.

Warning: Violence

**The Bell Doesn't Toll Thrice**

_Part III_

Morning and afternoon bled into one ashen haze. By the time the rain and the clouds had departed, sunset was no more and dusk was at its death bed.

In the darkening lobby beneath the magnificent octagonal skylight, Lambo sat on one of the chairs beside the simple-styled sideboard, fiddling with his cell phone. When footstep echoed against the chequered floor tiles, he looked up and saw Tsuna hastening across the lobby. As soon as Tsuna noticed him, however, the decimo stopped on his track.

"Where are you going, Vongola?" Lambo asked in a lacklustre tone as he stared at the loosened tie and the light overcoat Tsuna wore.

The placid expression on Tsuna's face remained unchanged. "I'm just going out for awhile."

Getting up, Lambo put his phone away and approached Tsuna, stuffing his hands into the pockets as was his habit. "I'm coming with you."

"No, Lambo." Tsuna refused the offer without a second thought. "You will be safer if you remain in the base."

Kind words though they were, they stabbed into Lambo's chest like a knife. "Even if you won't take me with you, I can still follow you. I'm quite good at tailing people, you know." He pulled out his phone. "Or I can just call Gokudera right now and tell him to come here. Either way, you aren't going anywhere by yourself."

Exasperation towards the stubborn Thunder Guardian passed across Tsuna's face. "Fine, you can come along if you like, but you will be bored."

"Don't worry. I have my phone with me." Lambo waved his phone around.

Several minutes later, they were in a taxi bound for Shinjuku. Pale lamps sprang to life along the street like a parade of ghosts in a summer festival; above, the deepening sky was an unexpectedly clear lapis lazuli blue. As Lambo watched the rise and fall of the urban skyline, he wondered if the stars would surface from behind these glass-and-concrete mountains tonight.

"Hey Vongola. What would you do if I say I want to be your bodyguard for the rest of my life?"

Sending a sidelong glance at Lambo, Tsuna took his time to answer. "I would be happier if you wouldn't do that. You are not my subordinate; you are a member of my family. To me, you are my little brother."

A sharp gleam flashed across Lambo's emerald eyes, but Tsuna did not see it. Turning to the man who was as cruel as he was criminally kind, Lambo looked directly into those warm golden pupils, hating and adoring the gentleness within. "I will do anything for you," he blurted out.

Tsuna blinked several times before a small smile crept onto his lips. "Thanks, but you don't need to do anything for me. You should live your life freely." There was a pause. "I wish you would call me Tsuna like you did when you were younger though. Why did you start calling me Vongola?"

Diverting his gaze elsewhere, Lambo toyed with the contour of his phone. "I don't remember," he lied. He knew he ought to send Reborn a message, but he made no attempt to do so; he wanted to monopolize the decimo for a while longer.

All too soon, the taxi glided past the streets of Shinjuku as the wheel of the glamorous, sordid nightlife began in full swing. Some time later, Tsuna and Lambo arrived on the street some distance away from Chrome's apartment building.

Walking the remaining distance by Tsuna's side, Lambo scrutinized anything and anyone that might pose a threat to the boss while keeping his hand on the holster. A silver Civic was parked some metres away from their destination, and as far as Lambo could tell, there were two men sitting inside, waiting for what he had no idea.

Stiffened with tension, Lambo spoke to Tsuna as casually as he could manage. "Those men seem to be watching Chrome's building."

"I've noticed." The decimo's voice betrayed not a hint of nervousness; Lambo could not help berating himself for losing his calm. "They might be after Chrome. We'll warn her about it when we get there."

When they arrived at the entrance of the building, Lambo stopped. "I'm going to grab a bite at the fast food joint around the corner," he said, despite every fibre in his heart telling him not to leave Tsuna alone. He knew who Tsuna was really here to see, but he kept up the pretence. He did not want to appear like a spoiled child, especially not in front of the decimo. "Tell Chrome I say hi."

After contemplating the young man for a heartbeat, Tsuna nodded. "Okay. Be careful and don't do anything rash." And then, he entered the building with Lambo's dark, unreadable eyes chasing after his back.

* * *

The doorbell was rung, and Tsuna counted to six before the door was open. The fluorescent light on the hallway illuminated a smiling face he had not seen for more than half a year. His mind cluttered with too many strands of thought, Tsuna studied that patronizing half-smile he wished he could hate. With a slight flourish, Rokudo Mukuro ushered him into the living room, where two glasses and a decanter filled with ruby red wine awaited on the coffee table.

"I brought this back from Italy. Hopefully it will be to your liking." Courteous though was Mukuro's tone, it was laced with a note of condescension.

When the illusionist brushed past Tsuna, a whiff of leather blending with musk lingered in the air, prompting Tsuna to take a deep breath. The next moment, however, Tsuna woke from the reverie and reminded himself to stay sober lest he be swept away by this man. "I'm not here for the wine."

"Then again," Mukuro sank casually onto the armchair and filled the glasses, "a business deal is usually cemented over a glass of wine - or a cup of sake."

Eyes narrowed, Tsuna sat down on the sofa, took out the pistol, and put it on the table. "I'm here to return this. Whatever it is you want me to do, I won't do it."

Mukuro let out a peal of chuckle, clearly amused. "I'm not trying to make you do anything, Sawada Tsunayoshi. Whether or not you use this," he tilted his chin at the gun, "is entirely up to you."

Tsuna watched Mukuro sip the wine, which was of the same hue as Mukuro's right eye. Looking away, he turned his gaze towards the black-and-white photographs hanging on the wall. The pictures displayed scenes from a bygone era, remnant to be remembered, and for some, to be forgotten.

"What more do you want from me? We've been playing this game for years. Does it even serve a purpose anymore other than for your own amusement?"

For a moment, Mukuro remained silent, his eyes contemplating the wine in the glinting glass as if it was the only thing in the world worth pondering about. And Tsuna, unable to stand the stifling stillness, grabbed the other glass and took a large gulp. The taste reminded him of leather, smoky mocha, and black currant, an affair of sophistication and brutality that suited this man well.

"I'm tired," Tsuna blurted out without context, yet Mukuro seemed to understand what he meant.

"You can free yourself from everything as long as you are willing to give yourself to me." Mukuro curled his lips upward without sincerity. "You need not play this hateful Mafia game anymore. I shall take care of everything for you."

Putting down the glass with a clink, Tsuna repossessed the composure he had lost. "No, I'd never agree to this."

The ironic smile on Mukuro's finely structured face was thin as a razor blade. "You are afraid that once I take over your body, I would use you to orchestrate the Mafia's ultimate demise."

Amber eyes cast an indescribable glance at the gun, then at the man. "That's part of it," Tsuna said, carefully weighing his words. "The other part is that I don't want to throw my problems onto someone else's shoulder."

Silence returned. At length, Mukuro cradled his chin and said quietly, "You chose not to take the easy way out, I see. You have exceeded my expectation - as always."

Despite himself, Tsuna chuckled dryly, his expression softened to the slightest degree that no one but Mukuro would discern. "This is a test? Does that mean I've passed?"

Those unsettling yet mesmerizing eyes of Mukuro's gleamed amid assortment of glittering glass. "With flying colours. Use me in whatever way you desire, and I shall do the same in turn."

Letting out a breath, Tsuna looked directly into those mismatched pupils, pigeon blood and deep azure sky impressed onto ivory. His gaze lingered on the silver ear cuff, then at the long black strand trailing down the shoulder. He had an urge to reach out and see how realistic an illusion Mukuro had woven, but he restrained himself. Rokudo Mukuro was not a man one could catch; Tsuna himself would be the one caught in his web instead.

Clasping his hands together on his lap, Tsuna relaxed on the sofa and asked, "How are you doing in the Vindice Prison?"

"The same monotonous days with an occasional spark of excitement," Mukuro replied airily.

Tsuna shared a smile with his former nemesis, and in a way, this man was still his nemesis. The only difference was that they were playing a more subtle game. "I'm glad I've entertained you."

Mukuro would have undoubtedly made a witty remark had not for the buzz from one of their mobile phones. While Tsuna rummaged through the pocket of his coat, Mukuro picked up the phone he had left on the side table and got up. "Excuse me." With that he went into the kitchen to take the call.

Following Mukuro's movement with his eyes, Tsuna wondered if the call came from Hibari. At the thought, he felt something inside him twist like a cord. Grabbing the long stem of the glass, he gulped down what remained of the wine and strolled into the kitchen.

Mukuro's back was turned to him. Wordlessly Tsuna reached out and took a lock of Mukuro's hair between his fingers. He ran his fingers downward until he reached the end, and then held it there. Literal or otherwise, there was only ever a single thread connecting him to this man. Mukuro did not react; he continued to utter vague responses into the phone.

Looking down, Tsuna contemplated those disconcertingly soft strands entangled with his fingers and the Vongola ring glittering despite the dimness in the kitchen. At length, he brought the tip of Mukuro's hair to his lips, a replay of the previous night in a role reversal. Still, Mukuro did not move. Even after he hung up the phone, he spoke not a word to the man standing a step behind him, answered not a single question communicated in this hollow silence.

* * *

Looking like any other bored teenager on the street, Lambo leant against the red hydrant and slurped his strawberry milkshake. With disinterested eyes he watched the people and the traffic passing him by. The car that had been parked uphill before, however, was nowhere to be seen.

As he chewed thoughtfully on the straw, he recalled what those men had told him when he threatened them at gunpoint. The Yoiyami-kai wanted to exact revenge on Hibari Kyouya by kidnapping his woman, a certain pretty girl with an eerie eye patch over her right eye. While Lambo had chased them away for the time being, those men were likely to return soon.

Looking up, Lambo mused about the multitude of lit windows, unseeing eyes of this hundred-eyed demon of a building. Nevertheless, in the depth of his mind, there was only the silhouette of a certain someone who was currently behind one of those windows.

_If I point a gun at your face, would you take me seriously at last?_

"If I were an assassin, you would be dead by now." A voice came unexpectedly from his right, startling him.

Turning sharply towards the sound, Lambo found the Storm Guardian glowering at him, his face twisted in irritation. "And you call yourself a bodyguard? I ought to put you through training all over again."

"But you aren't the enemy," Lambo argued, even though he could tell it was a weak excuse. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll be more careful from now on."

After finishing his milkshake, he left the plastic cup on the ground beside the hydrant. Gokudera sent him a sidelong glance, but he did not reprimand him for littering. Surrounded by the noise on the street, Lambo watched Gokudera light a cigarette and take a long drag. It suddenly occurred to him that Gokudera rarely smoked in Tsuna's presence.

Raising his arms over his head, Lambo stretched before slouching once again. "Gokudera, don't you hate waiting out here like this, knowing Vongola is seeing that man?"

Gokudera tightened his lips to a thin line. "The Tenth has his reason for meeting with that man. It is my duty as the Tenth's right-hand man to stand guard for his sake."

"But you hate it too, don't you?" Lambo pursued this line of thought with a ferocity that surprised even himself.

Not a word came out of Gokudera's mouth as he flicked away the ashes from his cigarette. His leopard-like eyes, however, were scanning the area with the efficiency of a trained soldier. Lambo also fell silent, for he too had noticed shadows of men moving stealthily in the background. His instinct informed him that these men were too disciplined to be mere yakuza underlings.

"It seems the hunting season has officially begun," Gokudera remarked quietly before placing the cigarette between his lips, his demeanour so unassuming that Lambo could not help but envy. "Call the boss. We have to go."

* * *

Tsuna's phone vibrated at the same time sub-machine-guns played their staccato passages. The ambiguous air of intimacy thoroughly shattered, Tsuna pulled out his phone and hastened to the door.

"Vongola?" Lambo's voice came through from the earpiece. "Gokudera's with me. We are ambushed." A burst of gunshot pierced into Tsuna's ear. "Get out while you can." And then, the call was cut off.

Gritting his teeth, Tsuna shoved the phone into his pocket and raced through the hallway to the elevators. Once he reached there, he stabbed the elevator button. Behind him, he could hear brisk footstep coming his way. When he turned around, he saw Mukuro standing there, holding out the pistol he had left behind.

"It's a present after all," Mukuro remarked in his sardonic, quiet voice. "Besides, you might need it."

The elevator had arrived. Knowing it was neither the time nor the place to argue, Tsuna grabbed the gun, put it away, and entered the elevator with Mukuro trailing after him. As soon as the door slid shut, the illusion melted away to reveal the dainty figure of the female Mist Guardian.

"Mukuro-sama told me what's happening," Chrome said while tightening her grip on the trident. "Tell me what I should do, Boss."

"We'll find Gokudera-kun and Lambo first." Tsuna took a deep breath and put on his battle gloves. "Then we'll make a run for it. We can't involve civilians in our conflict."

At last the elevator arrived on the ground floor. The door silently parted, and the first thing to enter Tsuna's line of sight was the muzzle of a gun. Methods of disarming the enemy raced furiously across his mind before his gaze glided upward to the gunman's face. Tension turned into surprise when he realized the gunman was Lambo, yet there was a certain grimness to the familiar face before him that Tsuna felt as if he was staring at the face of a stranger.

"Tenth! Are you all right?" Gokudera, who was also holding a gun, came rushing over, and the unsettling moment was lost.

Blinking those emerald eyes of his, Lambo lowered his gun and let out a breath. "Hey Vongola."

Tsuna recollected himself and masked his bemusement with the quiet composure he had mastered over the years as a Mafia boss. "Are you two all right?" When Gokudera and Lambo nodded, Tsuna relaxed ever so slightly. "What is the current situation?"

"The enemies came from the front. We shot several men. I then set up explosives around the entrance to prevent the enemies from barging in. The trap is more crudely done than I would like, but it should buy us some time."

The decimo narrowed his eyes as he listened to Gokudera's report. However strong his desire to question Lambo about his expertise in firearms may be, he knew he must set aside his puzzlement for now.

"That means they will go around the back of the building." Tsuna rubbed his chin pensively. "Chrome, are there other ways to get out other than the front and the back?"

"There is an underground parking lot," Chrome replied softly. "My car is parked there."

"All right, let's go."

The trip down to the underground parking lot took mere seconds. The elevator sounded a chime and opened up. Pressing close against the elevator walls, Gokudera and Lambo held up their guns. As soon as Gokudera gave the signal, they whirled around in unison and trained their guns at the open space.

Silence stretched. Guns levelled, Gokudera and Lambo stepped into the dully lit parking lot; Tsuna and Chrome followed closely behind. When no enemy came out to greet them, Chrome gestured for them to follow her. Slipping behind cars and pillars, they quickly but soundlessly made their way across the underground maze.

Seconds later, Gokudera whipped his gun around and opened fire. As if on cues, bullets came flying towards the Vongola family. Dodging behind a grey Mercedes, Gokudera and Lambo retaliated in kind.

"Storm Guardian, Lambo, cover me."

Having little time to think, Gokudera and Lambo did as told while Chrome rushed into the open and stabbed the ground with her trident. Pillars of flame shot out from the ground, and the gunmen were caught by surprise. Screams and howls interspersed with cold, harsh bangs. Taking the opportunity, Tsuna sprang out from his hiding place and aimed a punch at the nearest gunman.

Amidst a hailstorm of bullets and burst of flame, the Vongola boss and his guardians took down one man after another as they raced across the battlefield. Wielding their guns with the precision of a hunter, Gokudera and Lambo hailed bullet after bullet at the gunmen. At the other end, Chrome danced gracefully around the enemies like a butterfly in play, using her illusion to her fullest advantage. And Tsuna, his gloves aflame, disarmed and immobilized every man within his reach.

As Tsuna took down a man who was wielding a knife, he heard gunshots behind him. Wheeling his head around, he saw Lambo with his back turned to him, efficiently eliminating the threat. Although that disturbingly cold look on Lambo's face remained fresh in his mind, he called out, "Thanks, Lambo."

"What would you do without me?" Lambo jested, but he did not turn to look at him.

As soon as he had dispatched another gunman, Lambo grabbed Tsuna by his arm and broke into a run, shooting at the swamp of enemies coming their way. There was an explosion off to the side, then a beautiful yet deadly inferno resembling a monstrous crimson lotus blossomed in this unlikely garden; Gokudera and Chrome had conjured their own brand of magic. Nevertheless, Tsuna had little time to think as he and Lambo hid behind a blue Jaguar to shield themselves from the shower of bullets sailing towards their direction.

When Tsuna turned to Lambo, he immediately knew something was wrong. His face contorted in pain and his breathing laborious, Lambo clutched his midriff tightly while still holding his gun. Alarmed, Tsuna rushed to his side and pulled apart Lambo's jacket. What he saw made him draw a sharp intake of breath. There was a blot of crimson on Lambo's shirt, spreading ever outward and staining everything dark.

Snapping his eyes upward to Lambo's face, he saw to his surprise a crooked smile on Lambo's lips. "I'm a terrible bodyguard, aren't I? I should've paid more attention to Reborn's lesson. At least I did my job."

Tsuna's inside froze at the sight; he could not breathe, could not think. Nevertheless, he forced himself to remain focus and stifled his panic. "Lambo, hang in there. I'll get you out of here." Yet Lambo only managed a weak smile before whispering something to him.

Eyes widened, Tsuna stared at the boy, whom he had taken care of like a little brother for the past ten years, and whose life was slowly but steadily slipping away with every passing second. The wry, bitter smile remained on the boy's face, but Lambo was no longer looking at him. What he saw during that moment of inevitability only he himself would ever know.

Desperately Tsuna searched for a way out when his gaze fell upon Lambo's Beretta. Gritting his teeth, he took out the gun Mukuro gave him; those shooting lessons Reborn had drilled into him flitted across his mind. With ceremony the decimo took a deep breath and turned off the safety switch. Crouching behind the hood of the Jaguar, he levelled the gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

In long, brisk strides Kusakabe passed through the hospital corridors and into the operation ward. Men and woman who formed part of the Vongola inner circle congregated before the operating room in various degree of distress. Chrome and Gokudera were covered in dust, their bodies riddled with wounds. Tsuna was standing before the door; so still was his figure it was as though he was no longer alive. Reborn, standing away from the group, cast a brief glance at Kusakabe in greeting.

Everyone looked up when the surgeon walked out with a grave look on his weather-beaten face. When the surgeon met the decimo's deadened eyes, he shook his head. Like a puppet that had lost its strings, Tsuna knelt on the floor. In an instant Gokudera was there to support him, his face contorted in anguish. Chrome, looking as if she was unable to believe what had happened, stared at the opposite wall in a daze. In silent respect Kusakabe hung back and allowed the family to grieve.

No one seemed inclined to move until Reborn pushed himself off the wall and approached Tsuna. Crouching in front of his former student, Reborn took in those blank, hollow eyes. Wordlessly he raised his hand and slapped Tsuna on the cheek, a sound so crisp it resonated in the corridor like the sound of a gunshot.

"Reborn-san!" Gokudera exclaimed; Chrome looked up in startlement; Kusakabe winced.

Reborn, his face betrayed not a hint of his emotion even at the face of his youngest pupil's death, uttered quietly yet unyieldingly, "Tsuna, get a grip of yourself. You are the boss. If you fall, everything else falls with you." There was a pause. "Lambo is dead. Face it."

His amber eyes snapped awake, Tsuna glared at his advisor with such venom as he had never shown before. In the next moment, he bit his lower lip and looked away. Brushing the Storm Guardian's helping hand aside, he got up and whirled around. Gone was the warm-hearted Sawada Tsunayoshi; the boss of the most influential Mafia family in the underground world had taken his place.

"Gokudera-kun, Chrome, have your wounds treated first. Then I need you to inform the main family and the other guardians about what happened. Tell the other guardians to return immediately. Also, make arrangement for a funeral to be held at Namimori." Then the decimo turned to Kusakabe, who was momentarily spellbound by the force of his gaze. "Kusakabe-san, can we depend on the Foundation?"

"Yes, Sawada-san," Kusakabe spoke to the decimo in a formality reserved only for Hibari. "Hibari already gave his consent."

"Good, I shall leave it to you then. If you have discovered the Uccello Rapace's whereabouts in Japan, let me know." Without looking once at his former tutor, he pushed the double doors open and strolled into the operating room.

As Gokudera was about to follow him, Reborn coolly called him back. "Let him be. Your boss has issued the command. Now go." Nevertheless, those bottomless eyes lingered on the swinging door as if his heart was telling him to act otherwise.

* * *

The faint scent of disinfectant permeated the examination room, a smell that invoked memories both pleasant and unpleasant in Chrome's mind. Forsaken by her parents at the brink of death, she met the most important person in her life inside a dream of her own making. And now, the child who had once tried to teach her Italian had gone beyond the threshold she had once lingered.

Unconsciously she clutched her bandaged left arm, a remnant of the ferocious battle. She knew she ought to lend her support to the boss at this critical time, yet she found herself unable to move. If she were to see the decimo's face right now, she would have little choice but to accept that it was not a dream, that the boy who had proclaimed himself her escort on the street of Shinjuku was dead.

A doctor entered the room, his white robe billowing behind him without a sound. The doctor, with an intelligent face framed by a pair of glasses, reminded her of an owl, yet that was not the reason she squinted at him attentively. There was something familiar about him that eluded her grasp. At the same time, it occurred to her that a patient like her would not be tended to by two different doctors.

The man sat down and examined her arm. "How are you feeling, Chrome?" His voice was deep and raspy, but his tone was suave like the most velvety of wine.

Even if the voice and the face had changed, she would always recognize that devilishly silky intonation. "Mukuro-sama." For a moment, that was all Chrome could say. Several heartbeats later, she replied, "I'm fine. The wounds are shallow."

Letting go of her arm, the man peered at her face. "But not the one in your heart." He voiced his observation; Chrome did not contradict him. Gently the man wiped away the blood streak on her face. "Do you know what it means to be an illusionist?"

Unable to comprehend the abruptness of the query, Chrome shook her head.

"Illusionists are realists. Their task is to cheat, lie, and conjure tricks to fool others. An illusionist must never, under any circumstances, fall for her own illusion. That is why an illusionist must keep a tight rein on her reality. Embrace your reality. Do not turn away from it, or else you will be lost."

At those words, Chrome felt heat rising to her eyes, followed by a veil of mist that clouded her vision. Gazing at the man who was smiling kindly at her, she finally let the tears that were collected in the hollow of her heart to fall.

* * *

In the corridor leading to the operating room, a man walked past Reborn, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The hitman spoke not a word nor made a move to stop him, yet the man halted all the same.

"You are not going in?" the man asked sardonically. "That's rather cold of you, Arcobaleno."

A twisted smile fluttered onto Reborn's lips. "I doubt either of them wanted to see me."

"And yet, you are not stopping me." It was not a question.

"I'm not the one he needs right now." There was no need to ask whom Reborn referred to.

The man did not throw a mocking remark at the hitman; there was no need to. He continued on his way, not once looking back at the hitman who could put a bullet to the back of his head in barely a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Tsuna stood before the operating table, looking down at the face that would smile at him no more. Throughout the years, he had encountered death in its many guises, but none had struck as close as this. When he recalled Lambo's final words to him, he tightened his blood-stained fists, blood belonging to the boy who had gone ahead of him into the abyss of oblivion.

The door glided open with a rustle. Even without turning around, the chill trailing down his spine informed him all too clearly who the intruder was. Footfall came ever closer to where he stood, yet he did not move. Only when the footstep stopped right behind him did he slowly turn around to face the man.

The signature cynical half-smile was absent; Mukuro appeared not so much apathetic as pensive. Gazing deeply into those heterochromic eyes, Tsuna imagined seeing his own face reflected in their depths, his soul trapped in hellish crimson and mournful blue forevermore.

In silence Mukuro beheld the expansive bloodstain on the decimo's person, a mark left behind by the departed that would no longer be erased. For the briefest of moments, an indescribable feeling invaded his mind, yet it faded away as soon as it took shape. He cast a glance at the young man lying forever asleep on the table. In death the young man appeared peaceful as Mukuro himself had never felt. Whichever realm this young man will fall into next was a question not even he could answer.

At length, Tsuna wordlessly pressed his forehead against Mukuro's shoulder and closed his eyes. Mukuro did not hold him close, merely letting him lean on his shoulder, preserving the distance neither the illusionist nor the decimo would breach. "I'm not kind enough to wipe your tears for you."

"I know." Tsuna's voice was surprisingly steady, even though his body trembled as if cold. "I don't expect you to." He could feel the human warmth and the familiar fragrance radiating from Mukuro, yet even such comforting sensation was no more than an empty illusion.

After dwelling on the illusion for several heartbeats longer, Tsuna resolutely drew away, and, never once inclining his head to meet Mukuro's gaze, he returned to the reality of barbed wire and razor blade beyond the protective cocoon without a backward glance.

_

* * *

To be continued..._

A/N: One night, while I was flipping through my notebook full of bits and pieces of ideas, I came across a line I made Lambo say to Tsuna, a line that would appear in the next part of this story. That was when I decided which direction this story should go.


	4. Part IV

Disclaimer: The world of Katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters are not mine. The play _The Tragical_ _History of Doctor Faustus_ belongs to Christopher Marlowe.

Warning: Violence

**The Bell Doesn't Toll Thrice**

_Part IV_

The next few days passed by in a whirlwind. The shooting in the residential area of Shinjuku was erroneously attributed to a gang war between rivalling yakuza syndicates who wanted to take control of Shinjuku after the fall of the Yoiyami-kai.

Dark clouds returned on the morning of the funeral, lending a sorrowful note to the final celebration for this fortunate and unfortunate young man - a fortunate life, an unfortunate death. Friends and family were gathered, including his closest associates, the boss of the Cavallone family and the boss of the Bovino family; the Vongola decimo wished to keep it a private affair.

As soon as the earth was sprinkled onto the ebony coffin emblazoned with the Vongola emblem, Hibari turned on his heel and left the cemetery in his usual self-possessing strides. Nevertheless, Kusakabe walked over to Chrome and asked, "Dokuro-san, may we give you a ride?"

After looking once at the decimo's lonely back, then at the hollow on the ground slowly being filled with brown earth, she followed Kusakabe to the car. When she got in, she found Hibari waiting impatiently for her. The Cloud Guardian thrust a cheque at her direction. Without looking once at the amount, she pocketed it and produced from her purse a piece of folded paper, which she gave to Hibari.

Once he had read what was written, those dark eyes of his shot her a sharp look. "What is this? Did Rokudo Mukuro tell you to give this to me?"

"No, he didn't. I did some investigation with the help of your subordinate." At that Hibari threw a cool glance at his right-hand man from the rear view mirror, prompting Kusakabe to swallow nervously. He had known Kusakabe was one of Chrome's sources in Japan, though he had chosen not to interfere.

"What do you want?" The Cloud Guardian scrutinized the faithful companion of his arch-enemy. "Are you trying to manipulate me?"

"The information might be useful to you. That's all." Chrome was admirably unperturbed even as she faced the most dangerous man in the family. "I'm not trying to manipulate you."

Although he did not voice it, Hibari believed her, for unlike Rokudo Mukuro, she had neither a reason to lie nor an interest in twisted mind games. "You expect me to believe the Shinonome-gumi has dealings with the Uccello Rapace?" He waved the slip of paper in emphasis.

"Several months ago, there has been a rumour that the Shinonome-gumi was smuggling a large quantity of firearms into Japan. It was believed at the time that the weapons were prepared in anticipation of a territorial war with the Yoiyami-kai. Soon after, the Yoiyami-kai crossed path with you and suffered major losses. Another rumour began to circulate in the Japanese underworld: You were hired by the Shinonome-gumi to destroy the Yoiyami-kai."

Displeased, Hibari scowled at Chrome's words; nevertheless, he already knew where her train of thought was heading. After a pause, Chrome continued.

"But that rumour was false. Suppose that the rumour about the Shinonome-gumi wanting to wage a war against the Yoiyami-kai was false as well. If the weapons were not purchased for the sake of a gang war, then the only other explanation is that they were goods for a business transaction. The Uccello Rapace has no influence in the Asian underworld. Smuggling such massive weaponry into Japan is not feasible without the assistance of a local organization. For instance, the Shinonome-gumi."

When Chrome finished her narration, Hibari narrowed his eyes and folded his arms before his chest. He had evidently underestimated her resourcefulness. "You have a greater reach than I had imagined."

At that, the faintest of a smile fluttered onto Chrome's lips, accenting the loveliness of her visage. And then, the smile faded away, not even an afterimage remained on her face or in Hibari's mind. "Not soon enough or far enough."

Surmising she was referring to the death of the young one in the family, Hibari turned his gaze outward, where clouds hung low over the Namimori shopping district. The foolish child's decision to die for someone's sake eluded his comprehension. The only thing he understood well was that the boy was dead, a fact neither clinical analysis nor rationalization could alter.

"What do you think of Mukuro-sama?" Chrome suddenly asked.

Hibari sent a sidelong glance at the young woman, who was looking straight ahead. "I don't care what kind of man he is. He infuriates me, and I want to bite him to death. That's all I care about."

Taken aback, she lowered her gaze to stare at her pale, slender hands, which were slightly roughened from the battles she had fought over the years. While she did not receive the answer she sought, Hibari's reply had set her free from the maze she had woven around herself. There was no need to inquire any further.

For a fleeting moment, she felt a sense of kindred spirit towards this brutally honest man before her. When Hibari spoke no more, Chrome fell silent as well. Beneath the stormy sky, the rest of the journey continued on in companionable stillness.

* * *

Leaden clouds hovered close to the ground as if about to fall. Whistling wildly across the gloomy graveyard, the wind whipped Tsuna's face and jacket, yet like a statue he moved not an inch from the grave site. Lurking some distance away, Reborn was smoking a cigarette, an age old habit that had always returned to haunt him at the worst of time.

"Tsuna, let's take a walk."

Tsuna turned to see Reborn strolling away from him, and for a tantalizing beat, he merely stared at the retreating figure. For as long as he could remember, he was always chasing after Reborn, hoping one day he would at last catch up to him. And yet, he was not sure if he had the strength left in him to continue running after his former mentor anymore.

After a second of hesitation, he broke into a light jog and caught up with Reborn, who did not once slacken his pace. In silence they walked side by side on the stone path as they had done for the past ten years. Somehow, to take a stroll once more with the hitman filled Tsuna's heart with nostalgia. Too much had changed since his adolescent years that the decimo knew they could no longer return to that innocent time.

When Reborn finished the cigarette, he stubbed it beneath his polished leather shoe. "I was the one who taught the stupid cow how to kill. You know that by now, don't you?"

Bowing his head, Tsuna looked out at the gravestones laid sparingly across the meadow, a luxury in a highly populated country like Japan. "I figured it out when he shot those men."

"He wanted so badly to be your lightning rod, and he got his wish in the end. To me, he would always be a stupid cow though. I don't remember teaching him how to get himself killed." Reproachful though was Reborn's tone, Tsuna detected something closer to wistfulness and exasperated fondness in his low voice.

As they passed by a cherry blossom tree, Reborn continued, "He's an orphan. The boss of the Bovino family adopted him when he was an infant. Not for free, of course. In exchange for accepting him into the family, they trained him to become a hitman. That's usually how it works in the world of mafioso."

Having never heard of Lambo's background before, Tsuna felt a flash of pain stabbing into his chest. He had never asked Lambo about his past, and for whatever reason it might have been, Lambo had never divulged to him. Regret gnawed at him like a ravenous wolf when he remembered Lambo's final words to him, words he would never repeat to another soul.

_"When I saw those men aiming for you, I hesitated. I wanted you to be shot, but my body acted on its own. In the end, I just can't imagine a world without you in it. It's too scary."_

In that instant, Tsuna understood everything. If he were to pay more attention to Lambo's feeling, would something have changed? He knew there was little point in dwelling on it, yet he could not help pondering about the what-ifs, the terrible, wonderful what-ifs that would remain an unrealized possibility and no more.

"Had Lambo thought about finding out who his real parents were?" Tsuna asked.

"Probably." Stopping on his track, Reborn pulled the rim of the fedora hat over his eyes. The insensitive wind continued to rip through the cemetery, scattering pink petals with its intangible arms. "Then again, perhaps he didn't want to know. It's bad enough to have been abandoned. He probably couldn't stand any more disappointment."

To Tsuna's perceptive ear, it sounded as though Reborn was not merely talking about Lambo's personal history, but possibly a fragment of his own past as well. "Were you like him?" he asked cautiously.

Impregnable dark eyes cast him a sidelong glance. "Let's just say I can relate." There was a pause. "I was planning to return to Italy in the near future."

It took a second for Tsuna to realize what Reborn had meant to say. Dumbstruck by the confession, he could only stare at his advisor and former tutor. "For good?"

"Yeah, I've far prolonged my stay," Reborn calmly replied as he reached into the pocket for his cigarettes. "You've come to rely too much on me, and without knowing it, I've spoiled you too much. At this rate, I'll only drag you down." And then, a curious smile as Tsuna had never beheld before fluttered onto Reborn's face. "You still have a long way to go, but you are getting there."

"Reborn-" Tsuna was about to ask him to stay when Reborn cut him off.

"After what happened though, I'll have to stay, won't I?" Profound dark pupils turned to gaze at him; Tsuna found himself irrevocably drawn into their depths. "You'd probably cry and beg me not to leave like Dino did, wouldn't you?"

And Tsuna shared the smile with this unfathomable hitman, the very architect who shaped him into the Mafia boss he had become. "I'll probably be worse than Dino-san. I'll hug your legs and refuse to let go even when you punch me or point a gun at my face."

After one final quick smile, Reborn's expression became sober. "What are you going to do about the Uccello Rapace?" He did not miss the dark look on Tsuna's face. "You are the boss. Whatever you say, your family will follow."

Looking out at the little islands of tombstones in a sea of green, where the living and the dead reign side by side till the end of time, the decimo did not answer.

* * *

The traditional Japanese house where Hibari lived was his sanctuary within a sanctuary. Fashioned in a simple, subdued manner, the room looked out to a subtly elegant garden bedecked with lush greenery, smooth stones, and running water. Sitting in front of a wooden shogi board, Hibari contemplated the pieces when his train of thought was disrupted by his subordinate.

"I apologize for the interruption, Kyou-san." Kusakabe knelt respectfully in the corridor before the open entryway. "Sawada-san is here, and he would like to speak with you."

Letting out a soft sigh, Hibari moved one of the pieces and said, "Let him in."

Half a minute later, Sawada Tsunayoshi was led into the room. His task completed, Kusakabe waited by the door in case there were any further instructions. Moving across the room with a certain grim determination in his bearing, Tsuna sat down on the tatami.

For some time, the Vongola decimo and the head of the Foundation studied each other, searching for weaknesses in the other's armour, pondering about that certain something the other possessed that had attracted the attention of one Rokudo Mukuro.

"Thanks for coming to the funeral, Hibari-san," Tsuna began. "I didn't think you would attend."

Lacking the patience to engage in what he regarded as meaningless small talk, Hibari stared coolly at him. "Just tell me what you want."

Golden eyes flickered like candlelight, Tsuna placed a hand on the ground and looked directly into Hibari's eyes. "The Vongola family has a vendetta against the Uccello Rapace, and the wrong will be avenged. I'm not asking for your help. But in case something was to happen to me, I want your word that you, as the head of the Disciplinary Foundation and the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola family, would lend a hand to the family when such need arises."

Kusakabe looked up at the Vongola decimo with not a small amount of shock. Hibari, on the other hand, remained aloof as he appraised the youthful visage before him. Those large amber eyes of Tsuna's, once overflowed with too much sincerity, were burning with an iron-clad resolve. It seemed he had at last thrown away the last shard of his naivete and embraced that certain something his younger self would not even dare to contemplate.

"You've finally woken from the dream," Hibari remarked, which elicited not a trickle of reaction from Tsuna but for the arching of an eyebrow. After a beat, Hibari continued. "I won't give you my word. I'll only do whatever I think is right."

It was as close to a promise as Hibari was willing to give, and Tsuna apparently realized that. A small smile graced upon his boyish face, the boss of the Vongola family bowed his head to his guardian. "Thank you very much. I shall be going then."

As he watched the Vongola decimo turn to leave, Hibari gave him one final warning. "Sawada Tsunayoshi," Hibari called out in a tone that demanded absolute obedience. "I am the one who will bite Rokudo Mukuro to death. If you stand in my way, I shall bite you to death as well."

Halting for a beat, Tsuna looked to the garden where a small bird took flight into the leaden sky, his profile half shrouded in shadow from Hibari's view. "Can you, Hibari-san?" Tsuna questioned before passing out the room, leaving the Cloud Guardian to his musing.

* * *

Shinjuku donned its neon-coloured cloak as dusk gave way to night. People crowded the streets as if the shooting that had happened two weeks ago was no more than a scene from a gangster film.

A man, clad in a tailor-made navy blue suit, strolled leisurely on the street as if savouring the refreshingly rotten air in this urban playground. By Japanese standard he was tall, though his lean physique seemed to make him look taller. A pair of glasses framed his intelligent face, yet his aura suggested he was someone hovering on the fine line between light and dark.

His cell phone rang. As if he had expected the call, he chuckled and pulled out his phone. The caller number came through as unknown, but even that was within his calculation. "Hello?"

"Kannazuki Yutaka of the Shinonome-gumi, is it?" A husky male voice flitted into his ear like a shot of bitter espresso. "Or should I call you Rokudo Mukuro instead?"

"Good evening, Arcobaleno." He greeted his opponent pleasantly as he navigated his way through the moving crowd. "Whichever name is fine."

"You have a great appetite, don't you? Has the Mafia become too small a pond for you to swim in?" Reborn questioned in half-jest. "More to the point, did you have a hand in the business deal between the Shinonome-gumi and the Uccello Rapace?"

Halting his steps for a moment, the man watched the panorama of Tokyo splash across the large TV screen on the other side of the street. "I'm afraid that is not my doing. Still, you are not likely to believe me, are you?"

"Afraid not, but I'll give you a benefit of a doubt," the hitman drawled. "You fed the Uccello Rapace with information about the Vongola family during the time you infiltrated their organization. From what I can tell, you probably lied to them about Tsuna and Chrome being in a relationship, knowing Chrome would be closely monitored."

"If you want to capture the bird of prey, you need to prepare a proper bait."

"And Vongola, along with its current boss, happens to be the prey the Uccello Rapace wanted most," Reborn pointed out. "The Uccello Rapace sent representatives to Japan and made a deal with the Shinonome-gumi. You probably possessed one of the representatives, who later came into contact with Shiina Takahiro and his right-hand man. Taking the opportunity, you made the contract with Kannazuki."

Resuming his pace, the man brushed past a young woman who had a black butterfly tattoo on her neck. "Oh? And how do you suppose I could accomplish that when my trident was in Chrome's possession?"

"Obviously, you persuaded her to give it to you. The one Chrome carried with her during her time in Italy was probably just an illusion. There would be no major battles to be fought in an intelligence game, and you knew that beforehand." There was a pause. "Once the representatives returned to Italy, you gave the trident and the USB flash drive containing information about the Uccello Rapace to Chrome."

"Not bad," the man remarked as a whiff of coffee fluttered into his nostrils from a nearby cafe. "Is there anything else?"

"Around that time, you used Kannazuki to spread the rumour about the Shinonome-gumi smuggling a sizable amount of firearms into Japan. At the same time, Hibari clashed with the Yoiyami-kai. The Yoiyami-kai was nearly wiped out, and its remaining members were absorbed by the Shinonome-gumi. You took advantage of that and leaked information about Chrome being Hibari's woman to the former Yoiyami-kai members through Kannazuki. Still, I don't see why you bother to do that."

"That is because it was not entirely my doing." The sound of bubbly pop music reached both his ears. "You see, I've only leaked the information through Kannazuki Yutaka to Shiina, who did the rest on his own."

"Hmph, Shiina is a sly dog." The hitman's voice held a certain note of admiration. "He persuaded the former Yoiyami-kai members to go after Chrome and take revenge on Hibari, while he himself would warn Hibari in order to gain his favour. I guess the yakuza has finally taken an interest in Hibari and his Foundation."

"They have always been interested in Hibari Kyouya, though they have yet to find a safe way to come into contact with him," the man said mirthfully as he strolled past a chain of high-class restaurants. "When events happen simultaneously in the same setting, you would be predisposed to think they are related, yet that might not always be the case. Each party has its own secret agenda. As do you, I presume?"

The hitman at the other end of the line huffed. "The Uccello Rapace has a thing for decoy as well. They first sent out an assassin to test the water, and the assassin was killed by the stupid cow."

"In accordance to your order, as always," the man interjected sardonically.

Reborn ignored the thorny remark and continued. "After the job was done, he was obviously followed by someone from the Uccello Rapace."

"I see. It probably happened after Chrome ran into the young Thunder Guardian on the street," the man remarked thoughtfully. "Since the Shinonome-gumi had no knowledge of Chrome's tie with the Vongola family, there was no reason for the syndicate to inform the Uccello Rapace of Chrome's place of residence. Hence, the Uccello Rapace most likely found out about it when the young Thunder Guardian was followed."

For some moments, no words were exchanged between the man and the hitman. When the man turned around and retraced his steps, the caller finally broke his silence. "You are a terrible man, and a greedy one at that. Is it fun toying with Hibari and Tsuna at the same time?"

The man chuckled in amusement. "Hibari Kyouya is another matter altogether. As for Sawada Tsunayoshi, I want to see how far he could go. If he exceeds my expectation, I would let him be. If not-"

"-you will make him yours." Reborn finished his sentence for him.

"I will steal him from you." The man corrected him without a hint of sincerity. Those calculating eyes of his, however, were scanning the crowd. "I'm surprised that after all these years, you still haven't confessed to him. It is not for fear of rejection that you maintain your silence, is it?"

It was Reborn's turn to chuckle, albeit wryly. "You are good at playing the villain, aren't you? Just how much of what you have said is true, I wonder. Is it indeed merely for the sake of satisfying your curiosity that you pitted the Uccello Rapace against the Vongola family? You've said so yourself. To catch the bird of prey, you need a bait. The bait is Vongola; the bird of prey is the Uccello Rapace; then who is the hunter?"

The man did not speak; instead he stopped on his track and gazed at the figure in black standing some metres from him. The figure was holding a cell phone in one hand; his other hand was inside the pocket of his black blazer. Like fish in a pond, the crowd moved on around the two men, oblivious to what was taking place.

An unfathomable smile crept onto the man's lips before he spoke into the phone. "What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Sawada Tsunayoshi? Or are you going to shoot me right here in the middle of the street?"

"No, Tsuna would be the one to make the final judgement," Reborn said quietly, not once taking his eyes off the man. "After all, he is the boss, and you are his Mist Guardian."

"A notion I thoroughly resent." As if nothing was at all amiss, the man continued on his way and brushed past the hitman. "_Buona serata, Arcobaleno,_" the man said directly into Reborn's ear before vanishing into the crowd. _[1]_

* * *

In another part of the metropolis where the Shinonome-gumi reigned with a velvet glove, Hibari wielded his tonfa with deadly precision against members of the syndicate inside what appeared to be a legitimate trading company. So lethally fluid was his movement that one could not help but be reminded of the swoop of a bird. His lean arms and metallic tonfa were his wings to the path of Asura. The men who barred his way to the president's office were felled one after another like the sacrifices that they were.

All too soon, the sparsely adorned corridor was littered with bodies, a violent scene of carnage in the most literal sense. Yet Hibari paid these men little heed, for the ones he was looking for were not among them. At the end of the corridor was an ashen grey door leading to the president's office, and Hibari, lowering his tonfa, kicked the door open.

Bullets came sailing towards him like a rain storm, yet to someone who possessed years of experience in hand-to-hand combat, firearms were mere toys. Dodging the bullets with the flexibility of an acrobat and the speed of a sprinter, he was already right in front of the two gunmen before they had exhausted the entirety of their cartridges. Without mercy he slammed the tonfa against the men's necks simultaneously, knocking them down. When all the petty bodyguards had been properly dispatched, Hibari turned to the man who was watching the scene with a faintly amused smile on his face.

Sitting calmly on the black leather chair behind the cherry wood desk was Shiina, who cast a glance at his fallen bodyguards, then at the vicious assailant. His right-hand man Kannazuki was nowhere to be found. "Once again, you surprise me," Shiina said nonchalantly while picking up the cigarette left burning in the granite ashtray. "Then again, I shouldn't be surprised by now, seeing as the Italian Mafia had recruited you into their fold."

The corners of Hibari's lips turned downwards in distaste. "The Mafia has nothing to do with me. I'm only here for one thing." Casually he swung the tonfa in the air, splattering droplets of blood on the carpet. "I'll bite the Shinonome-gumi to death."

Instead of overcome with fear, Shiina smiled crookedly at him and tapped the end of the cigarette against the edge of the ashtray. "You are not the only one who'd tried, Hibari-kun. Still, it is not our intention to make you our enemy." He took out a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his pinstriped suit and placed it on the table. "Consider this a greeting from the Shinonome-gumi to the Vongola family."

Even before his eyes fell upon the text, Hibari could tell what was written on that seemingly innocent piece of paper - the address to the temporary nest of the bird of prey. As he squinted from the folded note to this serpent of a man who would stop at nothing to realize his ambition, he pondered if this contrived, convoluted game of the Mafia and the yakuza was what Rokudo Mukuro sought.

* * *

A week later, information surfaced that the remaining presence of the Uccello Rapace in Japan was completely annihilated. A rumour began to circulate in the underworld that the decimo of the Vongola family ordered the coup, and that he personally shot the commander dead. Nevertheless, the family kept a tight lip on the incident. To those outside the family, the incident remained no more than speculation and hearsay.

* * *

The air in the office was static as if the room was transformed into a tomb; not even the warm, lively Mediterranean furnishings could chase away the stifling stillness. Sitting on the throne of the great Vongola family, Tsuna held Lambo's Beretta with both hands and pressed it against his forehead. The cool metal quickly warmed up in his palms, giving an illusion that the gun had just been discharged.

When three knocks from the door interrupted his musing, he put the gun into the holster beneath his suit. "Come in."

"Good afternoon, Vongola." Rokudo Mukuro strolled into the room with his usual natural grace. "I see you would like to discuss with me about a certain urgent matter."

"That's right." Tsuna stood up and walked across the room to the window, beyond which was a swiftly darkening stretch of forest green. Somewhere out there, a certain young guardian slept for eternity beneath the earth. "How long have you known the Uccello Rapace was planning a coup against us?"

"A while." Heterochromic eyes contemplated the sombre figure of the decimo. The customary black suit of mafioso was at once the perfect attire for mourning and a constant reminder that death was never far from one.

"You gave us the information about the Uccello Rapace, knowing it would come to this." It was not a question, not even a simple statement; it was an accusation. "You even gave us the exact location of their headquarters. Do you plan on having us raid their base in Italy as well? Do you want us to destroy each other while we are at it? Is that your way of starting the war you've always wanted?"

Mukuro's gaze lingered on the profile of the young decimo, a boyish visage now etched with a biting edge. The rumour concerning the decimo might not have been a rumour after all. "You can think of it however you like."

In one smooth motion, Tsuna whipped out the Beretta and aimed at Mukuro, who did not even bat an eyelash. His face half-concealed in shadow, the decimo blankly released the safety catch and said, "I'm not a crack shot like Reborn, but I can aim pretty well at this distance."

"Is it for revenge?" Mukuro smiled that same patronizing smile of his even though he was staring at the other end of the gun barrel. "Shoot here if you like." He placed a hand on his chest. "You can even storm the Vindice Prison and kill my real self there. To tell you the truth, I'm tired of this charade. Let us bid farewell to this despicable world."

"Sure." And Tsuna pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled past Mukuro's ear and hit the picture frame that was hung on the wall behind him. The glass shattered with a loud crash, yet no one rushed in to see what was going on. "Pity. But I won't miss this time." With that he pointed the gun at his own temple.

Shock flitted across Mukuro's typically nonchalant visage, an expression Tsuna never thought he would see on this man's face. Nevertheless, this tantalizing moment lasted but for seconds before Mukuro narrowed his eyes and scrutinized him.

"Don't ever play that game again," Tsuna whispered quietly as he stared into Mukuro's cursed eyes; those amber pupils of Tsuna's were frozen into impregnable gold. "If you do, I will pull the trigger at myself and let all your effort go to waste."

Smiling thinly, the illusionist approached the decimo and mocked. "Is that a threat? An act of defiance against me? Even if you were to kill yourself, I would not shed a single tear for you."

"I don't expect you to." Tsuna repeated those same words he had said to Mukuro in the hospital, spoken right before Lambo's fallen figure. Heaving a breath, he lowered the gun and gazed upward at the man who had caught him in the poisonous web he could no longer escape from. "You told me I can use you in whatever way I like. I shall accept that offer now."

Chuckling, Mukuro took the gun from Tsuna, who yielded to him without resistance. After clasping the safety catch on, he bowed down on one knee, placed the gun on the floor, and held Tsuna's hand in his. Lightly he brushed his lips against the decimo's ring, a ring stained with phantom blood, sealing the final pact. In the deep recess of his mind, however, he knew the dead had claimed Sawada Tsunayoshi. A fragment of the decimo's soul would forever be buried with that boy who was granted his wish in his death.

"As you wish, _capo di famiglia_. Allow me, Rokudo Mukuro, to stand witness to your ascension, and I shall see to it that the wrong inflicted upon the Vongola family shall be vindicated."

* * *

It was a similar rainy morning as that disorienting day from once upon a time. In the same convenience store at the heart of the metropolis, Chrome shopped for her favourite malt chocolates among other necessities. As she strolled towards the magazine shelf, a familiar figure seeped into her line of sight like a soundless phantom, prompting her to halt her step. The man, who had been flipping through a tabloid, looked up and smiled amiably at her.

After returning the tabloid to the shelf, the man browsed the titles with half-closed eyes. "It seems the Yoiyami-kai will not be bothering you anymore, since Hibari Kyouya has taken matters into his own hand with the information you gave him." The smile upon his lips turned ever so meditative. "How are you, Chrome?"

"My wounds are healed." A note of uncertainty had crept into her glass-like voice. "We will be leaving for Italy soon." Gazing intently at the man, she discovered not the slightest hint of surprise on the man's owlish face. "Is this really all right, Mukuro-sama?" When the man did not immediately answer, she dared herself to push further. "Are you happy?"

Those mismatched eyes beneath the rimless glasses softened. "What does it mean to be happy, I wonder?" he mused aloud as if speaking to himself. "'_Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it_.'" After he recollected himself, he turned to Chrome. "You are free to do whatever you like. There is no reason to restrain yourself after what I have done." _[2]_

"Then let me be of use to you, Mukuro-sama," Chrome said without a moment of hesitation. "I shall find a way to the Vindice Prison and rescue you. This is what I have decided to do."

The man gazed deeply into Chrome's violet eye, appraising, wondering. And then, he smiled, not his usual condescending smile, but a self-depreciating curve laced with a hint of wistfulness. Looking outward, he saw the same swamp of crowd moving along the same metropolitan street, a never-ending cycle liken to the snake that eats its own tail. Like these people, his life and death was but an Ouroboros, without beginning and unable to end.

"Chrome," slowly said the man known as Rokudo Mukuro, even though his face and his voice belonged to another man. "If this is the path you have chosen out of your own free will, I shall say no more of it." Reaching out, he gently tucked a loose strand behind Chrome's ear. "Take care of yourself, for this is a merciless world."

With that the man left the convenience store while Chrome watched on in silence. Out on the street, a silver Civic quietly glided by the store and soon disappeared out of sight. Some moments later, the sound of several gunshots penetrated the busy metropolis, followed by the squeak of tires and an explosion of screams.

Snapping her head upward, Chrome instinctively took several quick steps towards the door before she stopped on her track. The shopping basket dangling still from her hand, she tightened her grip on the handle as if it was her sole lifeline in the raging, unforgiving sea of reality. As her liquid eye took in the sight of water streaming down the glass like tears, she thought she could hear a bell tolling solemnly in a distance.

_

* * *

Finis._

[1] Buona serata: Have a nice evening.

[2] "Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.": A line from Christopher Marlowe's play, _The Tragical_ _History of Doctor Faustus_, spoken by Mephistophilis.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading! And a further thanks to those who've left a comment. As Reborn has said, Mukuro is good at playing the villain, but it's impossible to tell what is truly in his mind. Would a true villain keep reiterating to his target that he's up to no good? As for Tsuna, how far he will fall from now on is a question perhaps not even Mukuro could answer.


End file.
